Babysitter with a Broadsword
by sapereaude13
Summary: Basch reminisces on his years as Ashe's protector and thinks on his charge's preoccupation with sky pirates. Second person Basch POV. With implied BalthierAshe.


You were just about her age when you first came to Rabanastre. The Queen had just passed, and as a new recruit, you should rightfully have been placed at some gods-forsaken desert outpost. But with the plague racing through the city, the wasting disease that took the Queen took out a few of her stalwart sons and several of the family's bodyguards. You were given a promotion of sorts within the first month. She was a toddler and definitely at risk of catching the same illness, and as her newly assigned protector, you spent long nights outside the nursery. Even then as her little lungs produced a screeching sound that could have pierced your eardrums you knew this one would have potential.

Vossler, the king's right hand even in those days, used to tease you. "A babysitter with a broadsword. Not what you expected after you left Landis, was it?" You'd shake your head with the petulance of a teenager, not behaving as the man you should have been. But it was a disappointment. You wanted to be out at the front, learning the ways of war. Instead you were her teething ring. And as she grew, you were jokingly referred to as "Nanny fon Ronsenburg" behind your back.

You were there that day when she was eight, and her little friend Solina first told her about sky pirates. "They stole everything we had," the little one told the wide-eyed Princess. "Even my doll!" The Viscount Adrese had indeed been robbed, but the identity of the thieves had never been discovered.

But Ashelia tugged on your sleeve when Solina had departed. "I hate sky pirates, Basch. When I get older, I'll throw them all in the dungeon!" You nodded as you always did, letting her chat to you about her ambitions. Her brothers were falling one by one in those days, and the succession was seemingly going in her favor.

You were there that day when she was thirteen. The day of the betrothal. "Soon we'll have to discard the Nanny fon Ronsenburg moniker," Vossler teased. "Now you'll be her Lady in Waiting." You let his comments slide as always.

You trailed behind at an appropriate distance as the young man escorted his future bride through the Verdpale Palace. But Ashelia's obsession was bubbling out of her. "Do many sky pirates come through Nabudis?"

Young Rasler had snorted at her query, being only a year older than Ashelia and regardless of his social status, he was a fourteen year old boy through and through. "Sky pirates? Their kind wouldn't dare set foot in Nabudis. Naught but a bunch of petty thieves."

You had to suppress a grin at the way her eyes lit up at his response, at his belief in swift justice for those rogues in airships with garish clothes and earrings. "You're absolutely right, Rasler," she replied, "If I ever meet a sky pirate, I may very well execute him myself!"

And then it was laughter you had to suppress as her betrothed swallowed in fear. His eyes clearly expressed his thoughts – _what sort of woman has my father arranged for me_? She clung to his arm as she had clung to yours in another time, chattering vividly about sky pirates while young Lord Rasler did his best to hold it together. You knew that Ashelia had never hated sky pirates…she was all talk. You'd wager that if her brothers had survived – if she had not just been named her father's sole heir – young Ashelia would have run off to join their ranks herself. You never understood her fascination.

You were there when she was seventeen, the day before she was wed. You stood calmly in the hall outside her chambers. "Do you know what my greatest fear about this whole business is, Basch?" she called to you.

"What, Highness?" you called back through the door.

"Supposing Rasler and I are abducted by sky pirates on our honeymoon. Do you think they would be more likely to kill us or ransom us?"

You hadn't the slightest idea how to respond to such a ridiculous question.

"Basch?"

"Hadn't you best be thinking about other things on this day, my lady?"

You heard the angry groan. You'd have heard it all the way in the barracks. You'd grown to love her almost as your own sister, and your usefulness to her was coming to an end. You fetched the servant to carry out the trunks to the royal airship. The trunks for a honeymoon that would be cut short by war. For a marriage that would be cut short by a well-timed arrow.

You were not there when she was eighteen, nor for most of her nineteenth year.

But you are there when she speaks to Vossler in the tomb that day. To the confidante who replaced you. You feel your shirt catch on some of the bandages that still criss-cross your back, and you refrain from calling him Nanny Azelas.

"He thinks ever and always on his own profit. Assure him of it, and he shall remain true to our cause." You know she is only telling the partial truth. It is that old fascination resurfacing that keeps Balthier and Fran around, as well as their own surprising altruism.

You are there as Vossler makes his mistake, and you take up your old charge as smoothly as you can. But she does not confide in you as she once did. It is he who holds her interest now. He who catches her hand on the beach when they enter Archadia. He who she looks for first when she seeks to have a leisurely chat after a long day. You think you should be more troubled by this course of events, but Ashelia was somehow destined to this path. You heard the whisperings in the streets of Rabanastre. The man had a reputation, but with her he was the perfect gentleman and you relax.

"_I hate sky pirates, Basch. When I get older, I'll throw them all in the dungeon."_ You remember this with a smile.

So it comes as little surprise to you when you're approaching with the map in Balfonheim that day. You catch the tail end of an argument. Pilfering some spare shot from a shop is the crime, and you are supremely glad that her anger isn't being flung in your direction. You wait patiently outside for your turn to converse with the Princess, but something not meant for your ears interrupts the argument. It sounds like the perfect gentleman can take no more. You walk away shaking your head as the sky pirate elicits a noise from Ashelia you'd have been happier never to hear. You cannot flee fast enough from the moaning and for the first time it really hits you that she is a woman grown now. She is disheveled later when you get to speak with her and you do not mention it. You assume that it is mere infatuation and curiosity for them both.

You are wrong.

You are in Archades at the start of her twentieth year. After Bahamut, her letters are sparse. Only bits and pieces of life in Rabanastre in short, emotionless sentences. You don't know what possesses you as you scratch the inky quill across the parchment. You were never a letter writer, and it shows.

You discuss life in the imperial capital, the weather, the way Lord Larsa's face lights up when he receives yet another letter from Penelo. You sign your name and move to stamp the waxy seal when it hits you. The coronation is in a few weeks. You decide to add a post-script and hope that it will cheer her rather than bring her sorrow.

"_Supposing Lord Larsa and I are abducted by sky pirates en route to your coronation. Do you think they are more likely to kill us or ransom us?"_

You debate whether or not to scratch out the whole damned sentence, but then Larsa is at the door with a new letter from Penelo.

His grin reaches your own face when he tells you the news about the Strahl being stolen. You seal up the letter and send it out.


End file.
